


Reprising Refrain

by ShippingsandDeamons



Category: RWBY
Genre: Babies!, Bad times for everyone, Little Ruby, Little Yang, Oz can cook, guilte complex, things getting worse before they get better
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-05-16 14:58:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19320493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShippingsandDeamons/pseuds/ShippingsandDeamons
Summary: Ozma never trusted the entire truth with others, a sentiment his incarnations always agreed with. It brought nothing but pain and betrayal. And then a dusty old crow came into Ozpin's life. And when they start building a life together, the secret finally comes out. It's only fair. And for once, things end up all right.





	1. Chapter 1

“Are you here to yell at us, too?” Ozpin (Ozma) asked.

Beacon’s headmaster didn’t sound angry or sad, or even apprehensive either. No, the silver-haired young man sitting before him sounded as resigned as he looked. With his shoulder sagging and head bowed ever so slightly, and the way he was cradling his mug in both hands, it was clear Ozpin was tired in a way that transcended the body. Though he kept a welcoming smile on his face, it was worn and tattered with stress, his liquid amber eyes taking on a dull glassy look. He was starting to look about as old as he really was. Qrow winced at that thought. He’d almost forgotten; that thought the body sitting there was only a few scant years older than him, one of the souls in said body was his senior by millennium.

I take it the others chewed you both out?” He asked cautiously.

“Raven and Taiyang did, Raven more so than Tai. Summer didn’t raise her voice, but she had her part to say, and certainly didn’t hold anything back.” Ozpin replied lightly.

Qrow wasn’t quite sure who was in control at the moment, that light and casual humor sounded like Ozpin, but he didn’t know enough about either to rule Ozma out either. Just how many times had Ozpin (Ozma) revealed the truth to others only for those very people to lash out at him? Had Galinda and James reacted as badly as the other three from STRQ? He had a hard time picturing Goodwitch having a meltdown, but he could see her getting angry. Ironwood… Was Ironwood. Did they even know the full truth? Hell, did Ozpin tell any of them the full truth?

He observed the man in front of him; noticing how tired he appeared, and how thin the guize hiding it had become. Though it was hard to tell the full extent of it, Ozpin was adept at hiding things from others. A skill they both shared. 

“…I’m not here to yell at you, either of you.” He replied.

He couldn’t bring himself to yell, even if he wanted to; both souls were likely tired of being yelled at and scolded by people. Qrow knew he’d be. Fear had a nasty tendency to make people irrational, make them act in terrible ways they wouldn’t normally even dream of doing, but that didn’t justify it. He knew what it was like to have people lash out at you out of fear, being a literal bad luck charm tended to make others nervous around you.

“I just want to ask you this; do you really think you can beat Salem? You built her up as this powerful villain earlier.”

“If I’m being honest, my version of winning is likely very different from your own.” Ozpin replied. “All this time that I’ve spent fighting this secret war, every day I keep Salem from achieving her goal is a win. All I can do is hope there is a way to destroy Salem once and for all, but I’m know omnipotent god- just a simple man.”

The look in his eyes as he told Qrow that last part was so hollow, it was nearly soul-crushing. The man had seen horrors to frightening and dark no simple nightmare could ever hope to scratch the surface. And unlike the rest of them, he didn’t have the choice to run away; he was cursed to fight and struggle against Salem until he finally stopped her and united humanity. If that was even possible. That last part was hard enough on its own, but add a monster who knew how to turn people against one another, and suddenly it started looking impossible. But in the end, that didn’t matter. They had the freedom to run away from all of this, even if that meant dying later thanks to Salem, but Ozma and his incarnations had no such luxury. He’d tried to run and hide in the past, but it never worked. He didn’t have the same luxury they did.

The man before him was no king, just a pawn with an even heavier weight attached to him. Maybe that’s why he was here asking a simple question instead of yelling like the others. Because he understood isolation and not being able to escape your problems entirely. Ozpin knew about his semblance at its ramifications, but still trusted him to be near anyway, it was more than so many others had given.

So, for now, at least, he’d place his trust in their hands.

“Fair enough, I’ll see you later, Oz.”

 

Ozma and Ozpin watched Qrow leave in silence. Ozma had taken control of their shared body after the blow out with the other members of team STRQ, to spare Ozpin any more trouble. Both felt strangely calm about their talk with Qrow. And it wasn’t in the apathetic way Ozma had steeped himself in the survive STR. Qrow hadn’t shouted his lungs out at him like Tai had, nor accused him to hell and back like Raven had, nor chide and scold him like Summer. No, he simply asked him calmly if he thought he could beat Salem, then understood him when he said he wasn’t certain. It was like a cool autumn breeze after the worst of summer’s heat.

How long had it been since someone hadn’t yelled at him over the truth? Even if it was just a part of the truth. Though he had been honest about Salem’s power and influence, he still left out the part of Salem’s immortality. He always did. Ozma let his companion take back control of the body that was, technically his. After so many years and so many different reincarnations, memories blurred together like paint. They stared into the face reflecting back in the surface of the hot chocolate. Collected and guarded. That’s how it always ended up, it was safest that way.

How much longer did they have until Salem played her hand? The question was ever present in his mind. Time was a luxury good; one he was always keeping an eye on, one he rarely ever had a lot of. Hopefully, STRQ could enjoy just a little more time as children, before everything must fall away.

Ozpin took a long, slow sip of his drink. He wasn’t sure how much trust he could place in STRQ, not after today. Qrow potentially, Summer, maybe, but he was hesitant to trust Taiyang or Raven after their little freak outs. Maybe he’d come to trust all of them in time, but there wasn’t much of that left. There never was. Sighing, Ozpin closed their eyes and took another long, slow sip. Whatever the Brothers Grimm threw at them, be it monster or man, they would somehow endure it, Ozma always did. He was doomed to do so.

“Now then, let’s see what horrors tomorrow bring.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hiding their heats behind a wall of ice kept everyone safe. So why did his anger almost tear them apart?

Ozpin slowly brought the match to the unlit candle wick. Once the tiny fire was set in its place, a simple puff of air snuffed out the unnecessary spark. This was a ritual performed every time one of their own died, a habbit Ozma had started when mouring his first 4 daughters (and the Salem he’d first fallen in love with), and it had stuck with him in the centuries following after. The candle rested unassumingly off to the side of his desk, and the paired souls stared at the tiny, flickering flame as tears budded in liquid amber eyes before slowly dribbling down pale cheeks. This was their only bit of mourning for the life lost before the demands of the rest of the world called them back.

Ozma had seen many people die for his cause, as had Ozpin, but it never got any easier, because the old wizard never let it. He remained steadfast in his determination to grieve every loss of life equally, because that is what they deserved. Guilt clawed at both of their souls, a deep and burning pain that was all too familiar. Summer’s blood was on their hands, another mistake. He should have realized there was more to that grimm report, shouldn’t have taken it so easily at face value. Now, the Xiao Long family was torn apart, and this time the blame truly was all his own.

The night beyond his tower window was clear, and the sky a blanket of stars. No clouds dared hide any of the twinkling lights from view. It was a fitting night to mourn the loss of someone such as the late Summer Rose. No rain to mirror sorrow, just as she’d like it. The night was much like she had been in life; inviting and bright and stunning.

Picking up the faint sounds of the elevator moving, Ozma took control. He remained seated and still as the elevator doors slid open, only having enough time to brush away their tears before it happened. As a leader, it wasn’t his place to let others see weakness, the world demanded constant strength from him, not caring if the burden started becoming unbearable. Qrow glared back at him as he stepped into the clockwork office, red eyes a tad brighter from crying, and potential insomnia. Ozma said nothing as the graying huntsman stomped over to him, he prayed the man wouldn’t see the slight tremors in his folded hands.

The atmosphere became tense, like the calm before a nasty storm. The candle bounced, flame flickering, when Qrow slammed both hands down on their desk. In their shared mindscape, Ozpin flinched at the display of discontent. Ozma looked up at the man, the only one able to keep the disguise of composure up.

Even if it did pain him as a heartless puppetmaster, the old wizard kept of the composed façade, tear-red eyes hidden behind his spectacles. The world demanded strength and stability, not caring that even though he was an immortal with great power, he was still just a man. Time and time again this world he bleeds so much for had joyfully torn him apart over the slightest hesitations and unassuming moments of weakness.

He remained quiet as Qrow grabbed his collar and dragged him up from his chair. Ozpin sharted shaking and panicking in their mind, but Ozma, used to such displays of grief-fueled anger, didn’t so much as flinch. That only peeved Qrow off more.

“You really are a piece of work, you know that? Both of you.” Qrow snaped. “Here we are grieving for a woman- a mother you sent off to die, and look at you, not even crying a single tear!”

He continued to say nothing. There was nothing to say, even if Qrow’s words were causing Ozpin distress.

“Is that all you have to say for yourself? Fucking nothing?!” Qrow snarled.

“And what would you have me say?” Ozpin (Ozma) asked quietly. “I misjudged the danger, and because of my failings and innocent soul is dead, leaving a family to mourn her loss. Words alone cannot change that, are you asking me to justify that?”

“No! Nothing either of you could say would ever justify it! But you could at least be sorry.” Qrow growled. “but here you are, not even giving a damn! Did Summer mean that little to you- do we mean that little to you?”

Ozpin kept his mouth firmly shut, he could muster up the energy to speak, and even if he could, he doubted his voice would hold under the pressure of their shared emotions. Ozma was somewhere between numb and agony, and Ozpin was sobbing at this point, the razor edges of Qrows words adding to the pain of Summer’s death.

But Qrow couldn’t see any of this, chose not to see the cracks. In his blind rage, he only saw a man uncaring that twice now his actions had ripped a family apart. He shoved the silver-haired headmaster back, ignoring as the man collapsed limply into his chair, blinding himself to the way the man’s head was bowed. He left out a frustrated hiss as he turned his back to the crumbling man.

“Raven was right; you are just a heartless monster after all.” Qrow said coldly. “You don’t care who dies for you in your little game of war, not as long as you get your victory.”

If the black-haired huntsman had bothered to turn around, he would have seen Ozpin wrap his arms tightly around himself, shaking as fresh tears fell anew. He stormed off seething, exiting Ozpin’s office via an open window instead of the elevator. Leaving the two souls huddled in an office chair as his seething words bounced around in their head. Ozma, too tired after that, relinquished control back to Ozpin, who broke down sobbing.

An empty feeling settled over them, gnawing at them as pain bubbled up like blood from an open wound. This is why they kept people at arm's length; to lessen pains like this. Besides, it wasn’t safe to get close to him, any bod was liable to be used against them all, Salem made sure of that. He was accustomed to being the scapegoat of everyone’s anger, the person everyone yelled at.

So why? Why did Qrow’s anger leave Ozpin past the point of breaking down? Why did his words cut them so deep?

 

It was months before Qrow was willing to work with Ozpin again, actually do his back instead of wandering around killing the odd Grimm here and getting drunk off his ass. The job was simple; escort Ozpin to a remote village that was suffering from grimm attacks. The people didn’t detail anything worse than a few packs of beawolves and a few lone ursa, nothing your standard huntsmen couldn’t handle. But after Summer’s death, Ozpin would go an confirm the threat level himself, or so Glinda had told him.  
Even after over 3 months of separation, the tension between them was so thick, you’d likely need a chainsaw to cut through it. A heavy duty chainsaw. Beacon’s headmaster followed behind him at a respectable distance of 6 feet or so, letting him not have to even look at the man. The silver-haired man was quieter, more withdrawn and reserved that when last they’d interacted, before his outburst over Summer’s death.

Shaking his head, Qrow shoved aside any empathy or concern that observation tried to bring. It didn’t matter to him, shouldn’t matter to him. In his mind, Ozpin wasn’t worth it. Still, he’d glance behind himself on occasion, just to make sure the other man was still right there behind him. And every time, his ‘cpmpanion’ was looking down, body tense, but his posture unreadable.

It was exceedingly close to sundown when they arrived at the allotted village, now abandoned and desolate. The majority of the housed either fell into the ‘heavily damaged and partly caved in’ category, or the ‘very damaged and looking ready to cave in at any moment’. Only a small percentage of houses appeared stable enough shelter, and even they had seen better days.

Quietly, the pair sought out shelter for the night. Neither had any qualms about sleeping in the ruins of homes. Or, at least Qrow didn't, he was used to it. Oz hadn’t cared the last time he’d checked, and so far the headmaster hadn’t voiced any objections or protests to sleeping here. They made camp in one of the better homes, easily clearing out a living room. In the morning they’d investigate, but now it was too dark to do so safely. Qrow left to look for firewood the moment he could, leaving Oz to unpack their necessities.

The self-made quiet was as thick and heavy even after he returned with an impressive bundle of branches. He set to work lighting their campfire as Oz began preparing to cook dinner. We watched the silver-haired headmaster as he went through the motions of cooking; from washing excess salt from the meat in clean river water, to carefully opening a can of greens into a skillet. His amber eyes were listless yet focused as he went about his tasks.

Qrow ignored the way the sign made his heart rend.

When dinner was done with, he excepted his portion with a nod of thanks, internally wincing at the way Oz pulled away from him, like he was scared of being burned. It had been a while since last he’d gotten to taste a meal cooked by Oz. And this was just as good as he remembered. As he ait, he noticed the Oz had not only cooked a smaller portion for himself, but was eating in much, much slower. He wasn’t outright picking at his food, but he didn’t have much of an appetite. When dinner was done with, Oz washed the dishes and set them out to dry overnight.

“I’ll take first watch,” Qrow said quickly. He didn’t outright run, but he was a bit hasty in his exit.

He willed himself to not look behind and see the look on Ozpin’s face as he all but ran away.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was selflessness that caused him to act, but others only saw selfishness. He was just a man, but the world wanted a wizard.

Qrow was woken by the thin light of morning trickling in from a broken window. Realizing that, he bolted up in a panic. He and Oz and swapped place last night, 2 hours after he’d initially started watch. If it was morning already, that meant the other man had stayed up all night. Or something had happened to him. He ran to the stairs, skidding to a halt just in time to see Oz descended the last few. The silver-haired man regarded him with just a nod before passing by him to reach their packs and pull out rations to cook breakfast with.

Staring at the man, he noticed haw, disheveled the headmaster looked. It wasn’t in his hair or clothes, the former was always a bit messy, and the latter only a bit wrinkled. No, it was in the slightly sluggish movements of his nimble fingers and the slight darkness beneath his eyes, the lighter than normal pallor of his skin, and the emptiness in his eyes.

“You stayed up all night.” He said.

Ozpin didn’t reply, didn’t even react to his words beyond pausing a bit before grabbing the matches and starting a cooking fire. Sighing, Qrow reached over and grabbed the bucket, might as well fetch some water for the morning.

Breakfast was as quiet and awkward as dinner had been, only this time Qrow shot his companion more looks. Oz was still eating lightly, and it made the raven-haired man wonder how thin he’d become under that green suit of his. He didn’t recall ever seeing Ozpin this withdrawn from the world before, ever. Why hadn’t Glynda said anything? … Oh, right, he was supposed to be angry at the man.

Qrow began packing their things as Ozpin washed and dried the dishes and cooking utensils. When everything was put away and the fire stamped out, the two set out to investigate the grimm attacks on the now abandoned village. 

Remnant was a fairly desolate place thanks to the ever-present force that was the grimm. They made it extremely hard for humans to settle where they wanted to, and was the reason why settlement outside of the major kingdoms was so risky. But, it at least preserved nature. For all that the grimm were despised, the world of remnant would be a much different place without them. The continents would look much, much different if humans (and Faunus) were allowed to settle where they pleased. Maybe more places would end up like Vacuo.

It was a dark though. Occasionally he had the thought to ask Ozma what the world had looked like in the past, before the gods left and the world became a shadow of what it once was.

The walls and ground were littered with the claw marks of beowulves and ursa, the dirst streaks littered with their tracks. There were also the talon marks and feathers from nevermore, too. This lines up with the reports. As they were walking, the ground suddenly became very uneven, causing the huntsman to stumble, just barely avoiding the fate of falling on his face. Looking down at his feet, he stepped aside to get a better look as Ozpin ran up to see what had caught his attention.

It was a single footprint of some kind, but not from any grimm he recognized off the top of his head. It was about as long as an ursa, and just about as wide as one too. The skinny toes and small sole in proportion to its size pointed to a bird of some kind, but unlike a nevermore’s 4 taloned foot, this one had five; three on top and two behind. Looking around, he didn’t see any more of the strange tracks, but he did catch Ozpin going pale at the sight of it.

“We need to go. Now.” Ozpin said.

Qrow looked at him, confused. “What? Why?”

The headmaster opened his mouth to reply, but before he could speak, something burst through the wall beside them, flinging bits of brick and wood everywhere. The pair were forced to flee back down the street to escape the falling debris. The grimm that emerged from the resulting dust cloud was a kind he hadn’t encountered before. It was easily twice the size of the neighboring houses, with a distinct chicken-like shape clank in oil black feathers and white bone all grom mad. It’s scarlet eyes zeroed in on them.

“It’s a cockatrin, we need to run!” Ozpn shouted.

“Sounds like a swell idea, I second that notion,” Qrow replied.

He grabbed Harbringer’s hilt and pulled the sword free. Even if the plan was to run like hell away from it, grimm more often than not chased people. His prediction was proven right when the cockatrin charged after them, a screech like a wrath out a’ hell blaring from its beak as it pursued them. It was fast, each stride that was straight up leaping closed the distance between them a little more. No wonder he hadn’t seen another footprint.

Escape was looking less and less possible as the distance between them and the grimm closed more and more. Steeling himself, Qrow spun around, boots skidding across the dirt to bleed momentum. He glared at the overgrown chicken of a grimm and braced himself. The grimm’s scarlet eyes pulsed, and almost exactly after his fingers started going numb at the tips, the rest of his body leaden and unresponsive. Before anything bad could happen, he was tackled to the ground from behind. Overhead, the cockatrin sailed over them, sliding across the earth as it landed, talons marring the earth with deep rivets.

“Cockatrins are able to cause pseudo paralysis if you stare into their eyes.” Ozpin whispered into his ear.

Beason’s headmaster rose steady to his feet and pulled out his own weapon. He watched as the cane’s main body slid free, as Ozpin’s limbs fell into place. He wielded the cane like it was a rapier, the tip poised ready to strike at its foe. Ozpin (Ozma) had been fighting the creatures of from for longer than history books cared to date back to. Still, he was using a cane; a blunt, cylindrical rod to fight a monster. Qrow heaved himself up to his feet in time to watch Oz leap over one of its outstretched wings.  
He changed harbinger from sword to scythe mode, rocketing into battle quickly thanks to the recoil from a dust cartridge. He hacked into the grimm like it was an oversized ragdoll, sparing Ozpin from being whacked by one of its skinny legs. The silver-haired man nodded at him, then returned his attention to the fight at hand.

Qrow managed to slice through one of its wings, almost taking the appendage clean off. But, trapped in motion, he was unable to redirect himself before the cockatrin’s foot planted itself into his sternum. He was pushed backward, propelled with a great force greater than what a lesser grimm could generate. Crashing through a wall, his organs protested when his momentum ground to a halt on a bed of pebbles and splinters. Blackness began to seep into his vision, starting at the farthest corners as it made its way centerfold.

The last thing he heard through buzzing ears was Ozpin. The headmaster’s lips were moving, eyes wide, and if he concentrated, he could hear his name being shouted. Darkness took hold, dragging him into the abyss. 

 

When Qrow came to, it was to the feeling of a weight on his chest. Through bleary eyes, he saw Ozpin weeping, the headmaster’s head on his chest. The man was crying in this elegant way devoid of sobbing, screaming, of grimaced faces; just simple tears rolling down his cheeks. Why was Oz crying?

“You’re awake,” Ozpin said. “I was almost certain you were dead. Thank the brother Grimm I was wrong.”

Qrow remembered what had happened; the fight with the cockatrin and being thrown through a wall. Nearly every inch of his body was screaming at him, his mouth was dry in that way that made him crave a drink, and his head felt like his brain had been replaced with a wad of cotton. A regular Thursday. At least he was still alive.

“You can cry?” He asked. Stupidly blurting out the first thought in his head.

Ozpin cracked a weak smile. “Yes, I’m able to cry, tears are one of the few ways we are still able to mourn others.”

Grow thought back to that night, the night he’d snapped at Ozpin. Now that the anger was gone, he could see all the signs of grieving; red eyes behind his specs, wet cheeks. He wanted to go back and smack himself in the head for being so blind.

“Back then, why did you stop?”

“Because,” Ozpin replied. “I – we- can’t show the world any weakness, the moment we do, it tears us apart. Ozma’s learn to hide it, and taught me to do the same.”

“Don’t you trust people? Not everyone is out to get you.”

“It isn’t simply a matter of trust. I can't afford weakness, not when the world demands of me the strength to fight Salem.”

It was tragic; the world demanded Ozpin to play the role of this great leader- someone who never faltered. But he was just a man, a person as imperfect as the rest, and even he had limits. Limits that were ignored for the sake of others. Why? Because he had failed to stop Salem.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No matter how much they wished it to be, forgiveness is no simple matter. Guilt and shame are powerful forces that in the end, help chose our actions, and the regrets that follow after.

If this was a fairytale, everyone (sans the villains) would have somehow lived happily ever after. But life was no fairy story, and this was no happily ever after. The next few weeks after the recon incident was what could only be described as awkward. Qrow resumed his duty as Ozpin’s spy, going above and beyond for the man (men) out of shame and guilt over the ass he’d made of himself. He’d used the pair as a scapegoat, a person to blame for Summer’s death, even knowing the life of a huntsman was one of the most deadly occupations, and death was always at the door.

Ozpin and Ozma had forgiven him for his mistake, but he hadn’t forgiven himself. Qrow knew it wasn’t the first time someone close had blamed them for something out of their control, and it wouldn’t be the last as long as their cycle of reincarnation continued. But that didn’t make it right, and some part of him wanted Oz to be angry, to retaliate with his own sharps words. 

Ozpin had been grieving in his own way, the only way the world allowed him, and he’d gone and run his mouth. He’d likely reopened old wounds Ozma had from constantly suffering such small betrayals like that; words he was used to, but hurt all the same.

Though they had technically reconciled their differences, Ozpin (and Ozma) continued to shut people out, locking themselves away in their clockwork tower in a self-imposed isolation. He continued to keep people at arm's length while taking up burdens that were slowly, but surely, becoming too much for the headmaster to bear. In the last week alone, Glynda had informed him of 3 separate occasions where she’d found the headmaster passed out over his desk from overworking himself. It was obvious the man was working himself to burnout, and someone had to step in and talk some sense back into the soul-bound pair before something worse happened, but no one was sure what to do. Oz was a master of defecting concern towards himself, and aiming it back at others.

He was self-sacrificing like that. A bleeding heart through and through.

And it was because of this misplaced concern that Qrow found himself almost being forced to babysit his nieces for the weekend. Tai was selected as one of a few teachers tasked with acting as supervisors for a field trip at Signal, and would be away from Patch the allotted days. The family he normally had his daughter bunk with when he needed to be away for an extended period of time was, ironically enough, going on a vacation of their own. Ozpin, the lovable hypocrite that he was, had all but ordered Qrow to take time off from work. And that is how he ended up at his brother-in-law’s house alone with a 3-year-old and a 1-year-old.

Qrow loved his nieces- he really did, but with his bad luck semblance, tried to keep his time with them limited to brief intervals. He deemed that the safest option that conceded to Tai’s demands he spend time with his relatives.

“Ease up there firecracker, Vale wasn’t built in a day.” He chided a buzzing Yang.

The blond girl promptly proceeded to stick her tongue out at him and run off to return playing with Ruby, who was smashing blocks together. He chuckled and continued to stir the pot of macaroni and cheese that would be their lunch for the day. It was Friday, and Tai wasn’t supposed to be back until Sunday night, or early Monday morning if something came up. It would be the longest time spent with the girls after Summer’s death.

He was a fairly decent cook (but would literally kill for one of Oz’s cooked meals), and had worked long enough with his semblances to prevent any mishaps in the kitchen. Other places, not so much. He was only one person, after all. He watched a black tower the girls had been crafting come crumbling down thanks to a wrong move. It might have been the careless nature of young kids, but it might have also been his own semblance.

Sometimes, it was hard to tell what tragedy was caused by his own semblance, and what was just a bad hand from fate.

Undeterred by this, Ruby and Yang tried again. Three more towers fell back to rubble before lunch was ready. As he cooked, Qrow’s mind wandered to Ozma. How many castles had the old wizard watch fall? How many lives had he seen die in hellfire and carnage as grimm flooded streets, killing any panicked soul they could get their claws on? He shrugged off the dark line of thinking before he could burn the noodles.

He was thinking about Ozpin and Ozma a lot recently. Ozpin had explained a few things about the cycle of reincarnation, such as that each house was a ‘like-minded individual’ (whatever that meant), and that sans the first, all his hosts were between the ages of 12 and 18. That last fact was something only Qrow knew. Each time Ozma died, he moved on to a random boy- some unfortunate soul who he would have to train and guide in preparation to fight against Salem. How old had Ozpin been when he was chosen? 15? 18? Or had he been a frightened 12-year-old boy who was forced to leave the comfort of his family at a painfully young age because he was the next in line to fight a dark war unknown to the rest of the world?

He looked at Ruby and Yang. Tried to think about how they’d be affected if one or the other one day woke up with a voice in their head and a destiny larger than life. How Tai would be affected by one of his baby girls having to go to war at the tender age of 12, when they were still too young for combat school, let alone fighting to have the world. And that was what Oz had to live with constantly. 

The thought honestly terrified him.

Eventually, the macaroni and cheese was done cooking. With a short whistle from his lips, he summoned the two girls to the table, helped Ruby into her riser seat, and had two boles of steeming cheezy goodness in front of each. With gleeful noises of thanks, the growing girls dug into their simple meal of noodles and cheese sauce. Qrow tried to think about how many times Oz had sat in his place, watching his own hosts have to discard their childhoods for the greater good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> until stated otherwise, I will be operating under the assumption that besides the first body, all of Ozma's lives following after started out young. Essentially meaning he's had to live as a child soldier.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Children see more than adults give them credit for. And slowly, but surely, the wizard is fraying at the seams.

Children were perceptive little shits when given the chance. And because adults tended to dismiss their presence on the bases of them being easily distracted, they tended to let things slip around their adorable, sweet ‘cherubs’. Qrow knew this, and often utilized this fact when gathering information for Oz. Some of his best, most reliable sources of information were packs of street rats; kids who knew the slums as well as they knew their own hands. So he really shouldn’t have been so surprised by Yang’s words.

It was Saturday evening, a few hours from the girls’ bedtime, and the three of them were curled up on the couch as he told them stories; past missions exaggerated to be both funny and child-safe. The two drank every word up like water into a sponge.  
“And so Oz has to step in between, me, Glinda, and Jimmy just to keep us from going at each other in a three-way brawl- that I totally would have won by the way-, anyway…” Qrow said. 

He was in the middle of telling them about the time he’d first met General James Ironwood and Glinda Goodwitch, and how the three of them had almost instantly been at each other's throats. Ozma and Ozpin had been the only voices of reason. Raven had been content to let the carnage happen, Tai and Summer had been absent.

“And when Oz was done scolding at us, he has this really specific tone of voice that lets you know just how completely disappointed his it with you- and it is the worst, we were finally ready to sit down and have a civil conversation.”

“Oh! Is this when you confessed to him?” Yang blurted out.

What?

“Yang, what are you talking about?”

“You know, whenever you talk about this Oz guy, you always sound like Dad when he talks about mom…” Yang said as if it were obvious. “Though, recently you’ve been talking about him like Dad now talk about mom, after she, well… you know.”

Qrow opened his mouth to correct his niece, to explain to her he didn’t look as Ozpin like Tai had at Raven, and then later Summer. That he didn’t think about the person he considered his closest friend as anything more than that. But the words just wouldn’t come out. He thought about how he’d snapped at Oz, how betrayed he’d felt at the man over Summer’s death. That was just misplaced anger at a friend he trusted more than anyone else, right? It wasn’t like he had taken it as though a lover had betrayed him, right?

Yang was just being a child and reading too deeply into that.

“It’s not like that, firecracker,” He said carefully, “Oz is important to me, one of the most important things to me, but it isn’t that easy.”

“Well, than why do you sound so sad when talking about him?” She asked.

“I… A while back, I did and said some things to him; horrible things that hurt him really bad. I blamed him for something that wasn’t his falt, and didn’t realize it until later, after a really stressful situation, and after turning myself into a total jerk. He forgave me, but what I did to him, isn’t that easy to just forgive, not after the he-heck I put him through.”

He really wanted a drink. It was so easy to just drown his pain in booze and revel in the numbness it gave him. Drunk, he didn’t have to care about what the world though if him, or give a damn to how much Oz’s tear-wet face had hurt. Didn’t have to think about how many times in the past Ozma had been hurt in that same way, or how the world demanded perfection him as every moment.

“Bawd Qwo, needs two saw sowwy to hisewf.” Ruby said.

“Yeah, Unkle Qrow, stop with the pity party. If he cares about you have half as much as you care about him, then he must really hate seeing so down in the dumps over this. He forgave you already.”

He cracked a small smile at his nieces. It was more complicated then that, Oz was tearing himself apart, had been for a while, and he was the one who’d instigated the self-destruction with his own stupid actions. He wanted to help Oz, he really did, but how could he break the man out of it when he was pushing everyone out.

 

It had been a while since Jame had found the free time to visit Beacon in person, and an even longer time since He’d seen Leo in person. It had been a long time since the last time all 4 headmasters of the huntsmen academies had all physically been present in the same room together. Though Theodore wasn’t present, three for four was still good. He and Leonardo chatted for a bit on the elevator ride up to Ozpin’s office. Most of it was random small talk, but as they neared the top of the tower, the pair began chatting about Beacon’s headmaster. Specifically, of the cryptic messages Glynda had been giving them concerning his health as of late.

Those messages were actually the reason James had altered his schedule, going so far as to re-schedule meetings, just to make time to visit the man in person. Glynda hadn't said anything specific, but with how vague she’d been concerning the man’s health recently, and how far she’d been going to avoid talking about him in general, James was a bit concerned to say the least.

“It’s likely nothing to worry about,” Leo said. “We all know how eccentric Ozpin can be, It’s likely he and Glynda just aren’t getting along very well recently, and she’s avoiding the subject to keep her cool.”

“That is, certainly a very likely possibility.” He admitted.

But, there was something about her word choice that had him thinking otherwise. He wisely kept that thought to himself. Reaching the top floor, the elevator doors slid open with a click. The office was just as both remembered it; A big open space with only Ozpin’s desk in the center, and a few chairs for guests off to the side. Behind the desk was a floor to ceiling window that took up the entire wall with a grand view of not just Beacon, but Vale as well. The floor was a thick panel of glass showing the working cogs of the clock that made up Beacon Tower, and above them were more cocks and gears turning overhead. 

James knew something was off. Ozpin wasn’t sitting at his desk, despite knowing the two were coming to visit at this time. Beside him, Leo choked back a cry, And James’ eyes fell to what the faunus man was looking at. Ozpin was collapsed right in front of the window, ceramic mug on the ground (not even chipped from the fall), and the contents of said mug spilled onto the floor like a dark pool of blood. Running to Ozpin’s side, relief came when they found him breathing, but it was cut short by his sickly appearance.

Skin a sickly paper white offset by the dark crescents hanging below his eyes. His normally messy hair limp and listless. Beneath his fingers, James could heel how thing and slender Ozpin had become under his dark pine suit. Leo already had his scroll out and was frantically messaging someone.

“Glynda will be here soon.” He said.

James nodded. That was for the best, it would cause a panic if word got out that Ozpin had been rushed to the hospital after being found collapsed in his office. Besides, the man’s breathing was strong and steady, and there didn’t seem to be any sort of bruising on him.

“What… is going on?” A tired voice asked.

One of Ozpin’s amber eyes had blinked open and was now staring at his guests. Helping the man sit up, James had to keep a hand on the silver-haired man’s shoulder to keep him steady, not a good sign. Before they could interrogate the man, Glynda came flying in. Her sharp green zeroed in on Ozpin almost imidiatly, the heels of her stilettos clacked against the glass floor as she marched towards them.

“Ozpin, infirmary, now.” She hissed.

“Glynda, I really think-“

“I said now!”

Several minutes later, Ozpin was tucked into one of the infirmary beds and the three of them congregating outside.

“This is the 4th time this week I have found that idiot collapsed due to exhaustion, and on the floor no less.” She fumed.

James wasn’t sure which he found more concerning, that this wasn’t the first time Ozpin had collapsed, or that it wasn’t the first time he’d collapsed on the floor. Either way, the man was clearly working himself down to the bone for some reason, and knew it was his way of coping with a problem. He had served Ozpin long enough to know that much.

“Glynda, when did this even start?” Leo asked. “And why is Ozpin in such distress?”

The blond woman pinched the bridge of her knows under her glasses and let out a long, tired sigh.

“Several months ago, Qrow and Ozpin had an argument, most likely over Summer Rose’s disappearance given the timing, then, a few weeks ago the two go out on a recognisance mission, and suddenly everything starts falling apart. Qrow’s running head-long into danger, Ozpin is trying to kill himself, and I will need a long vacation once I find a way to smack some sense back into those two.”

The smack of her riding crop against an open hand let them know she was dead serious.


End file.
